


Just Having Fun

by rosymamacita



Series: Rules of The Game [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 90s AU, Bars and Pubs, Bellarke Endgame, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Modern AU, New York City, Sleeping around, it just takes them a while to figure it out, jealous!Bellamy, multiple sex partners, they are not exclusive, this is not a pro finn story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: In which Bellamy Blake has a crush on Clarke Griffin, but he pretends his heart isn't involved at all. He knows how to have fun without strings. That's all they're doing. No matter what Miller says or the way Finn Collins Glares at him.Also in which Bellamy Blake likes the word 'fuck.'





	1. Clarke Fucking Griffin

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy's POV from The Arkadias. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10558154/chapters/23323442

Bellamy was late to work. It was a dumb job, but until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life other than just getting through it, it was as good a job as any.

He was walking down Bleeker Street, kind of zoning out, to be honest, when his eye caught on a pretty blonde waitress standing outside of a cafe. Very pretty. She was just his type, curvy and bright haired, just like his hopeless crush in college.

He stopped.

Wait.

The waitress WAS his hopeless crush from college. 

He stood there staring for a bit, reeling a little. She was two years younger than him, a freshman working in the library when he met her. So sweet and freaking innocent she didn’t even have a clue that he was dreaming dirty things about her at night, and talking about art and books and politics with her during the day. A princess. 

Shit.

And here she was now, writing intensely on her little notepad, not even realizing he was staring at her. God. She was even hotter now. Wearing a miniskirt, with those legs, and doc martin boots. Her shirt was scooped low in front and her cleavage was outrageous. Her hair had gotten a lot longer since college and he kind of wanted to knot his fists in it. 

Holy shit. 

She was writing on a little pad that fit in her hand and he suddenly recognized that look. That totally invested, passionate, creative, intense look she got when she was writing. He remembered their one creative writing course they took together and how good she was at it and how talented and how he kept trying not to tell her that she’d be wasted in med school, and how he wanted to, always, have her closer. 

But here she was, definitely not becoming a doctor, and she was writing with that look. She looked like she’d worn off some of that innocence, too, which made something inside of him tighten in anticipation. And he got a very bad, kind of unethical, idea.

***

“Miller, remember when you offered your conference room as a place to host a writing workshop?” Bellamy paused for not enough time to let the man actually answer. “Yeah, we’re doing that.”

“Doing what?” Although his voice was a little staticky over the phone, Bellamy could still practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Starting a workshop. You wanted to write those stories about growing up in Canada. I’ve got my novel—“

“Yeah, your Great American Excuse to drink whiskey and pick up girls by conning them into thinking you’re sensitive.”

“Fuck you, Miller. I’m very sensitive. And I’ve been working on this damn novel for a year. I need the push. And Luna has that whole, like, spiritual path through writing thing she’s been talking about. And the boys were working on those interlocking fantasy stories.”

“That’s called a role playing game.”

“They said they wanted to turn them into a book. And Harper wanted to do that romance thing set on the battle field of World War 2. We talked about it. Everyone wants to do it.”

“So who’s the girl you’re trying to screw?”

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“Couldn’t you just, like, ask her over to your place and skip all the group foreplay? Do we have to be dragged into this?”

“It’s not like that. She’s a friend from college and she’s a great writer. It just reminded me that I wanted this. And we’re going to do it. You already offered. And I already mentioned it to the gang. Luna has asked some people, too. ”

“Fuck. Fine. Just for that, I’m going to write some explicit gay sex that I will force you to critique, and it will be full of metaphors and purple prose and I’m going to enjoy watching you have to deeply analyze every last adjective describing my exquisitely beautiful humungous cock.”

“I hate purple prose.”

“I know.”

Bellamy laughed. “Awesome. That is exactly what I was hoping for. “

“Fuck you, Bellamy. Tell me when. Not Friday and not Tuesday. And not Monday. Or Thursday.”

“So then Wednesday.”

“Work it out,” he said and hung up. Bellamy kind of wanted to kiss the grumpy bastard. 

***

It took a while for everyone to get their schedules cleared. And by the time the workshop was set up and ready to go, he realized he’d been a little bit the fool. 

He saw Clarke Griffin on that unexpected street corner and he was immediately transported back to his months pining over her. Fine. Honest. He saw her when she was a sweet freshman and he had been crushing on her ever since. Years. But it wasn’t real. He knew it. She was just so pretty and his life had been going to shit and it was like she was immune to that kind of stuff. Until they bonded over having dead parents in that workshop and his love for her exploded. 

But he was a different guy now. He wasn’t feeling the weight of his dead mom or his dependent sister who was living with an aunt by marriage. Or struggling to pay for school and his apartment and books and food. Clarke had been a way out. That was all. And he fell into her like falling into some clear, enchanted pool. A fantasy.

Now Bellamy had a real job and his own apartment. His sister was in college on scholarship. He’d moved on and he was in control of his life. And he didn’t need to pine. Like Miller said, he could find a girl and take her home, he didn’t need to pant after a princess. 

He was hot. He knew it. Girls liked him. So he reminded himself. He went out and hooked up and went on dates and it was a good way to ground his ridiculous romantic notions about a girl who, really, was just a symbolic escape from a time in his life when he felt like he had no control. 

Things were different now. He was different now.

***

Miller rolled his eyes over his whiskey. “Goddammit Blake, if you tell me one more time what a tool Collins is because you can’t stand to see him flirting with your girl in our writing workshop, I’m going to leave.”

Bellamy ground his teeth together. “She’s not my girl.” He focused on rolling his cigarette. “And Collins is a tool. You know it. Any guy who would dump Raven Reyes is a tool. Be honest.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t like Collins because he dumped Raven. Not because he’s smooth talking the girl you’ve been in love with since you were in college.”

“Fuck you, Miller. I’m not in love with her. In lust maybe. She’s hot. Even you can admit that.”

Miller rattled the ice in his glass and shrugged. “She is objectively hot. I will give you that. I don’t even like girls, so you can take my word on her undeniable hotness when I say I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on those boobs.”

“What the fuck, Miller!” Bellamy gaped at Miller, who broke into body shaking laughter. 

“Calm the fuck down, Blake. I’m gay. Just because I find her sexy doesn’t mean I want to get involved with her. Sexy people are sexy.”

“Then don’t talk about her like that,” he grumbled into his whiskey. Willing his sudden anger to shut the fuck up.

Miller grinned at him in a way he didn’t like at all. “You know who else is sexy? Raven Reyes. Prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Yeah. She’s sexy, definitely.”

“Also Luna. That hair? Oh and Harper. Did you see the body on that girl?” Miller paused then looked at Bellamy thoughtfully. “Actually the whole workshop is bangable. Did you plan it that way?”

“No I did not plan the workshop according to bangability. If you think they’re all so hot, why don’t you stop trying to get me to hook up with one of them and do it yourself. I’ve seen how you look at Monty.”

“Did you not get the memo that I was with Bryan? I’ve only been with him for three years.”

“Yeah, but he’s in Canada. Is that actually working out?”

“Love pays no mind to distance.” Miller drained his glass and signaled to the bartender for another round. “Just because you like to sleep around and pretend your heart isn’t involved doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“Fuck you, Miller. I’m not pretending. It’s just sex. It’s fun. Everyone I’m fucking knows that we’re just having fun. There are no hearts involved at all.”

The bartender slipped another couple of drinks in front of them and Miller smiled. “Okay. So you’re not in love with her. And let’s say all you want from Clarke Griffin is just to fuck her. What’s stopping you?”

“The workshop. It would be bad to mess it up, if it went wrong. I like the workshop.”

“Mmm. Sure. Even though sex is just having fun and everyone knows what it is. And Finn Collins isn’t letting the sanctity of the workshop stop him from hitting on her. And come to think of it, Finn and Raven went wrong, and they’re doing just fine.” Miller rolled his eyes and stuck his chin out. “I dare you to make a move on Clarke.”

“Listen. She’s hot. Okay. But like you said, so is everyone in the workshop. It’s nothing.”

“Okay. Then make a move on Harper.”

“Stop, she’s like my sister.”

“Luna.”

“She’s engaged to Derrick. And unless he’s okay with it or wants to get in on it, then everyone involved is not on the same page. That’s a no go for me. My mom always got involved with cheaters all the time for some reason. I know what it does to people. That’s not me. I may sleep around, but cheating or being used to cheat with? Nope. Honest sex. That’s all.” 

“Monty? Jasper?” 

“Not my type.”

“Finn Collins.”

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“Already told you I’m not available.”

“You sarcastic dick.”

“That leaves either Raven or Clarke. Both single. Both hot. Both your type. Both awesome. If it’s just honest sex and not something more, I dare you to make a move on either one of them. Maybe it’ll get you to stop whining about how hot Clarke is all the time.”

“You are a dick.”

Miller nodded. “And as an added bonus, whichever one of them you fuck? You’ll be pissing Finn “The Tool” Collins off.”

Bellamy took a drag of his cigarette and blew out the smoke so that it curled around his head. “You make a very good point. That gives me a lot of motivation.”

Miller laughed. “I knew it would, because you are dick, too.” He raised his glass and Bellamy clinked it with his own. “To dicks.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate for this conversation.” They drank. 

***

Fucking Finn Collins.

Bellamy’d had to sit there in that conference room and watch him drool all over Clarke, giving her outrageous compliments and smiling at her with those stupid moon eyes. 

Raven on the other side of the table rolled her eyes and doodled in the margins of Harper’s war story. 

Fucking Dick Collins.

Making moves on Clarke right in front of his ex girlfriend. What a prick. 

It didn’t stop, even when they all moved the fun to the bar. Clarke, of course, seemed to barely even register Collins’ outrageous flirting. Like she didn’t realize Collins was trying to fuck her. Just like she had never noticed that Bellamy was interested her in college. Maybe she did. Maybe she just liked the attention, liked making everyone drool after her, too good for them. As if she didn’t know what it did to people when she wore those low cut shirts and twirled her hair in her fingers and looked at them with those big blue eyes. He finished off his beer in one swallow.

Fucking Clarke Griffin. 

She was still the princess. 

Bellamy stood by as the boys played games, and listened while Collins told the boys how to woo girls. He said that sometimes, if they were hard to get, you had to make a ‘bank shot’, come at them from a different angle that they weren’t expecting. He laughed like it was a great game, to make them feel slightly helpless, and in needing of saving. And then a smart guy could come swooping in to the rescue. Be their fantasy. Make them need you. Get in there under the girl’s guard, and then before they knew it, they were head over heels in love with you. 

Monty and Jasper looked awed. Miller refused to meet Bellamy’s eyes. Bellamy decided to, fuck it, just go get a drink rather than have to listen to this shit.

While he was waiting at the bar, he saw the girls, giggling and leaning in. Telling secrets. They were all listening to Raven and he bet it was about Finn. She deserved a shot for having to put up with him. They all did.

He brought the tray of shots over to the girls. Finn was watching him over by the games, with that look on his face that said he was trying to figure out Bellamy’s game. 

Fucking Finn Collins.

He caught Miller’s eye. ‘I dare you,’ Miller mouthed at him, then nodded at Finn. Miller was pissed at Finn too, but he was working Bellamy to get their revenge.

Fucking Nathan Miller. 

He couldn’t believe that Raven Reyes had been with Collins for so long. How had he tricked such a great girl into being with him? The girl was an actual rocket scientist. Too good for that tool. He made sure to give her the first shot, giving her a smile to go with it that said how awesome she was.

Her eyes got all sultry back and her grin widened.

Miller was right. Fucking Raven Reyes was sexy as hell. And when the boys got back to the couches and Miller gave him that dry look that said he knew what Bellamy was thinking, Bellamy muttered, “Fuck you, Miller.”

“I dare you,” he muttered back before grabbing a shot and falling into the sofa. 

Fucking Nathan Miller. His friends were all dicks. But he had a job to do and handed out the rest of the shots. Luna flattered him outrageously and ran her hands up and down his chest, but he knew she loved Derrick and it was harmless flirting and she never got out, so he flirted back to give her a thrill and she smiled so wide it was worth it. 

Harper stopped him when he turned to leave her and began squeezing his bicep. “Wow,” she said. “Monty, feel these muscles. So sexy.” Monty shook his head but she made him.

“Wow. Those are great muscles,” Monty said, blushing. 

“Now feel my muscles!” Harper said, flexing her arm for them.

Bellamy humored her and squeezed her bicep. “Shit Harper! You’ve got guns.”

She nodded, excited. 

“Monty you need to feel those guns,” Bellamy nudged the younger guy who was, at this point, bright red. Monty turned to Harper, and Bellamy turned away, grinning. 

It was just coincidence that he held Clarke’s shot for last, and he ignored Miller’s look as he sat down next to her. He’d rather look at Clarke and her shining blue eyes than Miller’s crabby old face any day. 

Clarke took her shot but when he drank his, hers was still untouched. 

“No shot for you?” he cocked his head at her, curious.

“This would be my third in fifteen minutes, so I’m trying not to pass out,” 

She made him want to laugh, but he kept it to just a smile. She was too good for these fools. “That explains the groping,” he said, “I’d better catch up.” He swiped the shot glass out of her hand and kept her gaze while he drank it. He thought he saw a flicker in her eyes, one that answered the heat in his belly. The one that wasn’t about tequila.

“Slide over,” Finn said. From out of nowhere. Bellamy looked up and there was Finn Fucking Collins. Bellamy glanced at Miller, who cocked his eyebrow back at him, wondering if he was going press the issue. Bellamy kind of wanted to call Finn out, to be honest, and Miller knew it. Knew he was reaching the breaking point. But then he saw Raven, saw the way she was looking at Finn, like he was breaking her heart, and Bellamy made a decision. Fuck Finn Collins. Clarke could handle him. Raven was the one who needed someone.

He slid over and leaned forward to talk to Raven. She flirted outrageously back at him, bending over so he could see her bra down her shirt and all the creamy olive skin of her chest. She was gorgeous and sexy and smart and sarcastic as hell, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of how Finn The Tool was hitting on Clarke and Clarke was fucking flirting back. He tried to distract her but probably wasn’t doing as good a job of keeping an eye on her as he could have, because she was drinking harder than he realized and suddenly, she was over the edge. Getting loud and aggressive. 

The party was breaking up and he was fucking glad. What a goddamn night. Luna threw down a wad of cash and took off. The others fussed over their part of the bill. Bellamy had to put $20 back in Raven’s wallet when she tried to overpay, and stick it all back in her bag and help her on with her coat. “I miss my leather jacket. It was the best thing ever, like my heart before it was broken,” Raven said to him, falling into his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. She nuzzled at his neck. “You smell good.”

“Hey, you okay, Raven?” Finn said. Suddenly he was there. Raven turned to him like it was an automatic. She laughed. “Finn, you’re such fucking dick. You owe me a leather jacket.”

“Let it go, Raven,” he said. Bellamy snorted and turned away. Finn was done with her, so he though she should be over it. I guess he didn’t understand how hearts worked. Bellamy took out his wallet and paid his part of the tab so he didn’t have to listen to Finn making his excuses to the girl he was trying to fuck and leaving with the girl he was done fucking. 

It wasn’t until Finn and Raven, and everyone else had gone, that he realized Fucking Finn had stiffed them. Clarke, sipping water, had paid up as soon as the bill had arrived, but she was sitting there trying to figure out a way to not place the blame on her boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Does he know that?” Bellamy could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Because he was all over you tonight.” Honestly, he wanted to throw the dick across the room. 

The widest, most dazzling smile spread across her face and his heart stuttered. She crossed her arms under her breasts and leaned forward so he was helpless to stare at the creamy mounds barely held in by her clothes. She knew what she was doing, but she had no idea what she was doing to him. “You jealous?”

He wanted her so bad. He wanted to touch her so bad. He wanted to taste her and hold her. He wanted to make her moan his name. His name. 

“Yeah, I am,” he said, and he didn’t even care how husky his voice was with his need. Her lips parted on a gasp, all wet and pink, and she fluttered her eyes at him. He didn’t even think she meant to, but she surged towards him and he met her, one hand at the back of her neck as he kissed her, finally, the way he’d longed to. For years. He’d wanted this for years. Fuck. He shouldn’t. He was in over his head. But he wanted it. He wanted her. Her hot fingers slipped under his shirt and caressed his skin and he was just gone. 

“Come home with me,” he said, simply.

“Yes,” she said and there was no stopping him anymore. No sense or logic or warnings. Just Clarke. 

He fumbled with his keys, almost getting his head back when he let her inside, but then she shoved him up against the door and ground into his dick with her hips. 

He took her shoulders and held her back. He wasn’t sure how he managed to get his words together. He felt almost out of control. But he had to hold on somehow. This was just sex. It was just for fun. They were friends. “…I’m not looking for anything serious or exclusive here. Are you okay with that?” he found himself saying. Thinking that for some reason, his mouth was better at this word thing than his brain was. He rubbed circles into her shoulders with his thumbs. 

Then she was touching him, saying something about her ex and not being with anyone in a long time and he connected only with the zing of lust going through his body when she dragged her nails across his belly and down to his cock.

“I wanna sow my wild oats with you, Bellamy” she said and bit his ear lobe.

“Thank god,” he said. There was no holding back. He pulled her shirt over her head and bent to kiss her breasts while she unbuttoned his pants and snaked her hand inside. He groaned, but it wasn’t enough. He stepped out of his pants and she pulled her own off impatiently, along with her underwear and then her bra, and just dropped them on the floor. God she was beautiful.

“Yours too, Bellamy” she said throatily, pulling at his shirt, pushing at his underwear until he was as naked as she was. She gasped. “You’re so beautiful,” she said and reached for him but he took her hand and led her to his bed. 

“Come on,” he said. “I want to do this right. This is gonna be fun.” 

That’s what this was. Fun.


	2. The Benefits Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy Blake will PROVE to you that he does not have any feelings for Clarke Griffin.
> 
> Fuck you Miller.
> 
> See? He's fine. Completely fine. Look at all the hot girls. No strings attached.
> 
> Here's Clarke Griffin. Just friends who fuck. See? He's perfectly unaffec--
> 
> Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another sex monster. Equal opportunity sex monsters. Sex monsters for everyone.
> 
> There is a lot of fucking in this story. With a lot of partners. There is a lot of use of the word "fuck" too. I'd make it E rated, but there's no smut, and I think that's false advertising. It's pretty damn mature though, so buyer beware.
> 
> The dumb kids are dumb. And they're being dumb.

“You are out of control, Blake.” Miller was shaking his head at Bellamy, the dim lights in their favorite, quiet dive bar making his eyes gleam as he glared flatly at Bellamy.

“No,” Bellamy said, taking a drag of his cigarette and shaking his head slowly, blowing out the smoke and smirking at his friend. “I have it all under control.”

“You can’t stop talking about her.”

Bellamy snorted. “That’s because the sex is just that fantastic.”

“No. That’s because you’re in love with her and you’ve been in love with her for what? Four years?”

He ordered another round before finishing off the last of the whiskey and rolling his eyes. “I was infatuated years ago. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. She didn’t even know. I was just fixated on her because my life was going to shit. But now it’s not. Now my life is great. And here she is, this really cool girl— this really hot chick, and we have really hot sex and then we hang out. Just like this.” He gestured between them with his cigarette. 

“I told you already, dude. I’m taken. You’re not getting any sex from me.”

“Fuck you, Miller. I mean like friends. But Clarke and I are friends who fuck.” The new whiskeys came. “None of that fantasy romantic stuff. Just fucking. Just friends. And it’s the best thing ever.”

Miller gaped at him, then snapped his mouth closed and reached for the whiskey. “You’re a fucking moron and you are going to go down in flames with this friends who fuck thing. And I’m going to sit here and laugh at you.”

Bellamy stubbed out his cigarette. “Shut the fuck up, Miller. As if you would know the last thing about the softer emotions of the human heart. You’re like a man made of stone and sarcasm.”

“Right. And when your heart breaks open on this girl, who you already admit is awesome, I’m going to sit here and say I told you so, and you are not allowed to cry on my shoulder.”

“You’re a dick, Miller.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, moron.”

***

Bellamy and Clarke were friends. Miller was wrong. There was something wrong with him anyway, acting like Bellamy was some mooning kid. He didn’t have to moon after Clarke like he used to, because he got to have her. Lots. And it wasn’t about romance or love or any of that squishy stuff. It was just two people on the same wavelength. Bellamy had it under control and Clarke was totally on board. They were having the best time together. Fucking and hanging out and talking about shit and drinking. It was great.

At first. He’d call her whenever, or she’d call, but they settled pretty regularly into a Saturday date that sometimes bled over into Sunday. Every once in a while, he’d call her for a music festival, or that time he had to deliver a package in Connecticut and he asked her if she wanted to go for a drive with him to the country. They’d ended up having sex on a deserted beach, miles away from anyone else. 

But usually, it was just friends. With benefits. They’d hang out at bars and then go back to her place and fuck and fall asleep and wake up and fuck again and then go get something to eat and say good bye and go off and live their lives without any expectations or attachments.

It was great. He loved her body and and how she responded so eagerly to him and pressed up into him when they were alone. Those were the benefits.

But the friend part was pretty great, too. He didn’t remember her being so sarcastic and sassy, to be honest, and she kept surprising him with her witty observations that she muttered to him under her breath. He loved hanging out, just the two of them.

It was.

Fun.

Also fun was the way they’d kind of sneak around behind everyone else at the workshop. The way she’d slip her toes out of her shoes and slide them up his pants leg underneath the conference table, talk about metaphors to everyone else in the workshop without looking at him once. She was a trouble maker. And all that time, she looked like she was such an innocent girl, but she had a dirty mind and not many inhibitions, and cared not one whit for whether people thought a thing was appropriate or not. She was irreverent. And funny. And smart. And he could tell her anything without feeling like she was judging him. 

She was quickly becoming one of his best friends. And he wasn’t going to tell Miller that, because Miller would be a dick about it. He wasn’t going to tell him about the time she ran into him as they were both getting onto the elevator to the writer’s workshop, and he kissed her as the doors closed to tease her but she upped the ante and stuck her hand down his pants jerking him off so thoroughly he almost came before the door dinged open and she sashayed off, leaving his knees too weak to follow her. He’d had to take a couple extra trips in the elevator just to get his composure back and he was the last one to show, getting glares from Finn and Miller both for walking in late. 

Clarke ignored him as he sat down and got out his papers and listened to the story Harper was reading. She caught his eye once and winked, and he was hit with a flush of lust and had to force himself to focus on Harper’s story. Which was, unfortunately, about one step away from porn. 

Fucking world war II nurses were not supposed to have heaving bosoms, Harper. But he did not make that commentary. He stuck to history and narrative and ignored Clarke’s smirk. 

Clarke was just amazing. And he was having the time of his life with her. There was such a lightness about their relationship. And he knew it was because they just accepted it for what it was. Friends. And fucking. And he wasn’t embarrassed about it. Unfortunately, Miller was the only one who knew and the only one he could talk to about it. So Miller never stopped making up this story that he was in love with her. 

No. He just really liked her. 

***

“So I’m really glad you’re getting laid on the regular Blake,” Miller said drily and Bellamy rolled his eyes preemptively, getting ready for the sarcasm. “But how come I never hear about any of the other girls you’re screwing? All you ever tell me about is Clarke.”

Bellamy opened his mouth for a comeback but had nothing. There were no other girls. Not lately. Not for a couple months at least. Maybe at the beginning, but thought back to the last time he’d called a girl besides Clarke, or tried to pick someone up at a bar. And he couldn’t remember.

Miller watched him. “Yeah,” he took a drink of his whiskey. “Cause I was wondering about that. You’ve got two nights a week where you can go out and and hook up and not have to get up in the morning to go to work. One of them, Saturday, you spend with Clarke. Regularly.”

He paused. And Bellamy braced for the blow.

“The other of them, you spend with me. Talking about Clarke.” 

“Fuck you, Miller. I’m not a senior citizen. I could be going out to hook up during the week. I don’t have to be home by 10.”

“Yeah, but are you?”

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“Thought so.” He took another drink. “Just thought you might like to get the newsflash that you have a girlfriend, and her name is Clarke.”

“No.” He said slowly and clearly. “We’re friends.”

“Who fuck. Yeah right. I know. And yet, that’s something that works pretty well in an actual relationship, too.”

“No. Because we’re not attached. No strings.”

“You’re not attached to her. That’s why you haven’t noticed that tall hot chick at the end of the bar who has been staring at you like she wants to lick you all over.”

Bellamy startled and looked down the bar. There was a gorgeous girl checking him out and when she caught his eye, she smirked and let her eyes rove down his body and then back up to meet his eye with a questioning quirk to her eyebrow.

“Damn. She’s hot.”

“Damn, she’s been there for 45 minutes and you never even noticed her. It’s because Clarke is your girlfriend.”

“Clarke is not my girlfriend. We’re not like that. We’re just fucking. We’re both free to date whoever we want to.”

Miller nodded and drank his whiskey. “And you don’t want to date anyone else but Clarke.”

“Fuck you, Miller.” He glared and drained his glass before getting up from his stool and heading over to the hot girl.

“You are SUCH a fucking asshole, Blake.”

Her name was Echo and she had huge eyes and lips that made him think of what she could do with them. She put on the juke box and made him dance with her, but it wasn’t a dancing song, it was just something she put on so she could rub against him and turn him on, like a battle, like a challenge. One that she was winning. Without a doubt. 

He didn’t even say goodbye to Miller as she led him out of the bar back to her place, because fuck Miller. He could see him shaking his head at him. 

Echo pushed him onto her bed and rode him like a fucking stallion until she screamed with her orgasm, then he rolled her over and pounded into her until he was done. 

Panting. Sweat cooling. He felt himself come down. Her room was strangely impersonal. Like a hotel. There were some photos on the dresser, of a buff guy with long hair, but otherwise, nothing personal at all. He sat up and pulled his pants back on. She lay there, one arm over her eyes, naked and gorgeous, long legs and round hips, muscles taut and full breasts, heaving with her still deep breaths.

Yeah. He could do that again. “I’d like to call you. Can I get your number?”

She dropped her arm and looked at him with those heavy lidded, sexy eyes. “Yeah, no. I already have a boyfriend. I just wanted to fuck.”

“What?”

“Did you not get what this was? You’re hot. I wanted to fuck. No strings.”

He laughed. No strings. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ve seen you at the bar, before. Maybe next time my boyfriend is out of town and I’m feeling horny we can do it again. But no, you can’t have my number.”

“I don’t do cheating.”

“Relax, White Knight. Roan and I have an agreement. Whatever happens while he’s out of town is okay, as long as it doesn’t carry over into our time. That’s why no number. But he goes out of town pretty often. And I’ve seen you at that bar more than once, so maybe next time if you’re around.”

“An arrangement. No strings. No numbers.” He nodded. Then smiled, and climbed over her. “How about a little preview,” he said and then kissed her deeply, his hands traveling down her body, pinching and stroking and making her gasp again. She was a screamer. 

He left while her eyes were still rolled back in her head, hardly able to catch her breath. He pulled his clothes on and took off. No strings. He could do this. Miller didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

***

He met Roma at a cafe when it was still light out. They hit it off easily. She was willowy and gorgeous and clear that she wanted him. She was a flirt. They talked until it got dark and he took her to dinner. She pulled him into the bathroom and blew him that night. He did get her number and he’d call her during the weekdays sometimes. She had shifts on the weekends so it worked out. He never stayed over on the weekdays, since he had to get up early. It worked out. Until it didn’t. 

“Why don’t you introduce me to your friends?” she said, one night, naked and pressed against him after he’d made her come three times. “I think your friends should meet your girlfriend.” 

Bellamy was silent. An image of Clarke meeting Roma flashed through his head. 

“When do I meet them?”

“Uhm, I didn’t know this was where we were going with this,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we talked about this not being serious.”

She laughed and patted his chest. “Bellamy… that was five dates ago. Clearly we’re something now. There’s no way you could give me that many orgasms if this wasn’t going somewhere. You should stay over tonight.”

“I have work in the morning.”

She sighed. “Fine. Next time, bring an overnight bag and you can leave from here.” 

“Okay,” he nodded. Coward. It wasn’t going to happen. He got her off again with his mouth and then left when she fell asleep, blissful and exhausted. 

Next time he called her it was to tell her that he thought they were not on the same page anymore and it was best if they ended it. He let her yell at him. Blame him. Clearly it was his fault. He didn’t like it at all, but he’d wanted to play this no strings game and she got caught in the crossfire. He’d take the yelling. He told her she deserved better than him, let her cry and yell a little bit more and then it was over. 

He didn’t tell Miller about that. 

***

Sometimes when he spent the night with Clarke, he watched her sleep. She slept like a rock. Just feel asleep and nothing could wake her. It made him smile. She was so soft and pale. So lush. She was like honey, with her gold hair and her sweet skin and if he stroked her side, she would nuzzle into him, warm and naked and his heart would stutter in his chest. 

***

One night, after workshop, when Finn had skipped out, thank god, and Clarke had begged off early for lack of sleep, they were all just having a good time. Bellamy and Raven got into a discussion about a documentary about space. Monty and Jasper and Harper rolled their eyes and stayed out of it but Raven and he enjoyed themselves so much that when they looked up, all the others were gone. He looked around for Miller, just wondering if he’d have something to say, but he was gone too.

“You know,” Raven said, paying her tab without looking for him. “Men are dicks.”

He laughed. “Thank you?”

“Oh come on. You know I’m right. They want to get fucked and have their ego stroked and that’s what they want. They don’t really care about a girl.”

“I’m not sure that’s really accurate.”

She rolled her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “You telling me there’s some girl somewhere that you care about more than just getting fucked?”

Fucking hell an image of Clarke smiling brightly and laughing and reaching for him popped into his head. “Nope,” he said. Willing Clarke out of his head.

“So getting fucked comes first. Right?”

He wanted to say no. But he didn’t. “For now. But that doesn’t mean forever.”

She spun around in her seat, crossing her legs on the couch and leaned into him and was suddenly much closer than she’d been before. “How about your ego?”

“Excuse me?”

“You want it stroked?”

His mouth fell open and he watched her tongue come out to touch her teeth. She saw, of course she did. She was one of the smartest, brightest people he knew.

She laughed with delight at his reaction. “You’re very handsome, you know.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You’re gorgeous yourself.”

She smiled. “And smart. And interesting. How come we never did anything about that?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s complicated.. The workshop…”

“Yeah,” she said, and put a hand on his knee. “Did you know that Finn thinks he’s in love with Clarke?” Bellamy froze. Very carefully not responding to anything she said because he didn’t want her sharp gaze to catch it. He ignored the flare of fury that went through him. 

But Raven was gazing off, unfocused, over his shoulder, her thoughts elsewhere. “He doesn’t seem to care about the workshop or it being complicated or how I feel watching him fall all over her all the time.”

“I thought there wasn’t anything between you anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh there’s not. He’s like family, but with the way he doesn’t care about showing his feelings for Clarke right in front of me it makes me wonder if he ever really loved me at all? What if I was just convenient? What if I wasn’t good enough. Not like Clarke. Who is fucking perfect.”

“She’s not perfect.” She wasn’t and he didn’t feel disloyal for it, either. He loved that she wasn’t perfect, from her stubborn jutting chin to the way she could simply never remember that other people were waiting for her to her sharp temper. “And there’s no way you’re not good enough. Finn’s a dick, Raven. I don’t know what you were doing with him in the first place. You’re too good for him.”

Raven’s cheeks darkened with a flush. “Oh, come on.”

He laughed. It was so obvious and she didn’t believe it at all. “Are you kidding me? You’re brilliant and sarcastic and talented and beautiful and so fucking hot. Finn’s just a pretentious white dude with floppy hair and a good game.”

Her eyes were huge. He never realized how long her lashes were. Then she was on him, pressing him back against the arm of the couch, her lips hungry.

His hands hovered over her hips for minute, wondering if he should, before she growled deep in her throat. “Fuck Finn if he wants to screw Clarke. I’m going to get you first. See how he likes that.” 

This was fucked up. He shouldn’t. But really fuck Finn. And Raven’s taut body against his felt so fucking good. This was supposed to be what he did. This was the way it worked. Sex with no strings.

He held her off. “Raven,” he said and his voice was throaty and thick. “I’m not looking for anything serious. You know that right?”

She laughed and pulled him up off the couch. “You think I finally get out of this thing with Finn for years and I’m looking for a boyfriend? Hell no. I’ve got some wild oats to sow.”

That’s what Clarke had said. When they first started. Raven led him out onto the street and into a cab so they could go back to her place and they made out in the backseat, then up to her place and she pushed him down and stripped and then stripped him and took charge. He knew she needed it and he didn’t mind at all, And when she came once, he flipped her over and took his turn, and made it slower and deeper and she got softer for him. There were times, so close to the edge, and he swore it was Clarke under him. Her soft skin, her silky hair. Then he’d smell Raven’s spicy perfume or she’d moan with the wrong tone and he knew just how fucked up he was. 

When they were done. Raven lay there, still. “It was supposed to help.”

It didn’t help. 

“This was supposed to make me forget him. To not care so much.”

“I’m not sure if love works that way,” he said, scrubbing his hand down his face and reaching for his boxers, discarded on the floor.

“Dammit,” she cursed. She pulled on an oversize tshirt with Minnie Mouse on it. A clear sign of dismissal.

“Yeah. I’m gonna go. We’re good right?”

“We’re good. I think this might not be the right fit for us.”

He nodded in consideration. “It felt good, right?” she nodded. “So we got something. And now it’s out of the way, and we know, and we can just be friends.”

“That’s awful mature of you,” she said.

“I’m a pretty awesome guy.” He grinned and flexed his biceps like a cartoon body builder.

Raven threw a pillow. “Get the fuck out of here, Blake. Oh my god, I can’t believe I thought this could be a thing. Ugh. Your hotness blinded me to the nature of your idiocy.”

He laughed. He left. That was it.

***

A few weeks later, at the bar after workshop, he was sitting with Raven, just friends, they were cool. She nudged him with an elbow and pointed with her chin. 

“Look at that,” she said. “He’s going in for the kill.”

Finn was following Clarke to the bar when she went to pick up the pitchers for the table. Bellamy clenched his teeth and then consciously released his jaw. It was not a problem. Only, it wasn’t just Finn flirting with Clarke. Clarke was flirting back. 

“Goddamn it, it’s working,” Raven said. He looked down at her and could she the flush rising, the tears welling. 

“I thought you were over him,” he muttered into her ear.

“I thought so, too.” Her voice broke just a little. 

He put an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “Hey, what was that book you were telling me about?”

“What?” She swallowed and looked up at him and she looked like a beaten puppy. 

“Show me your book,” he glanced at Clarke and Finn still busy at the bar and then shot her one of his patented bad boy grins, quirking his eyebrow. 

She narrowed her eyes then nodded, glaring daggers at Finn and pulled out a book, curling into him with her breast pressed up against him. Finn and Clarke both clocked them, clearly looking like they were more than friends, which is exactly what he wanted them to see. Finn sent him a look of pure hatred, but Clark, he thought for one second that it was pain in her eyes. He turned back to look at Raven’s book. 

“Thanks,” Raven whispered a bit later, when her anger and resentment overpowered her pain. “I’m good now.” He nodded, and begged off. Finn was still all over Clarke, he needed to get out of there.

He didn’t go directly home. He needed to work off whatever this was. He just walked. Seeing Clarke… something wasn’t making sense anymore. A door opened and a happy couple came out of a restaurant, laughing. Inside he could see the gleaming bar, with ranks of booze lined up behind it. Yeah, that.

He went in and sat down and when the bartender stepped up to him, he nearly swallowed his tongue. For a split second, he thought it was Clarke. She was blonde and wore her hair in the exact same style as Clarke did sometimes, when she was at home, ready for bed or just getting up. Twisted up in a bun on top of her head. 

“Hey there, handsome, what can I get you?”

She leaned forward and her blue eyes twinkled with a half grin.

“Well now,” he said, feeling the pull of interest. “That depends.”

Her name was Bree. He took her home, after her shift, because it was close, and then she left. And the next time, they went to her place, which wasn’t that far from his. They fucked. They flirted. They left. 

Bellamy’s sister came to stay with him, crashing on the couch for a week in the big city. It was great to see Octavia again, but they chafed against each other. She said he wanted to treat her like a little girl, but he just wanted to be there. To reconnect. Apparently that wasn’t what a twenty year old girl wanted from her over protective brother and by Friday night, she’d called up some college friends and dumped him to go wandering around the city.

Fine, whatever. He made his way over to Bree’s restaurant and sat at the bar. She didn’t have a bar shift. She was working the floor and it was a busy night, so other than saying hi to him when he came in, he didn’t get to do more than just watch her wait tables. Which was kind of creepy. So he drank his whiskey and talked to the dude behind the bar, who was not nearly as cute as Bree. 

Even worse than watching Bree work, though, was that when he wasn’t careful if he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, his heart would start beating fast as he thought, ‘Clarke!’ He’d shake his head and remind himself it was Bree, who was her own person and lots of fun in her own right and great in bed and gorgeous and nothing at all like Clarke except for hair and coloring.

It happened a half dozen times until all he could think of was Clarke. Until he was remembering waking up to her watching him sleep before she grinned at him and called him names that felt felt a lot like love even though she was laughing at him. Until he remembered pressing her up against the door outside of her apartment one night, kissing her so deeply, so fully that he wasn’t sure if he was even in his own body anymore. Until he realized he couldn’t be here right now. He needed to be with Clarke. 

He paid his tab and waved goodbye at Bree across the restaurant and she nodded acknowledgment back at him and he walked out and jumped on his bike and rode across town, before realizing that they’d made no plans tonight and he didn’t even know if she was home. He was a fool. But he couldn’t leave without at least trying to see if she was there. The light in Clarke’s window was dim. Was she there or had she just left a lamp on? Instead of buzzing, he whistled. If she was there, if she was available, if she wasn’t busy, she’d notice, right? 

She did. She was. She let him up and she was so beautiful in her cozy sweater and sweat pants he just wanted pull her to him and hold her. The sight of her made him glad.

She looked at him with suspicion, her stubborn chin jutting, but got him a glass of wine.

“You know I missed you, right?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You missed me, really?”

She had no idea how he’d missed her. “Of course I missed you. Do you think I don’t like spending time with you?”

She gave him a challenging look that made his mouth water.. “Yeah. I know you like spending time with me.” She pulled her clothes off, beautiful and bold. She unzipped his pants and drove him crazy. She sank down on top of him. It was hot, it was so hot, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t them. It was like it was just another fuck. 

“This is why you came, right?” she said, and she was like a goddess. Powerful and untouchable.

“Fuck, Clarke, no. Fuck. Wait.” She pulled away from him, and his heart broke. He brushed her hair back and caressed her cheek. “That’s not what this is about.” He kissed her. He didn’t want her to think that. “I came for you. Just you.” He wanted her first and he’d take her any way he could get her. He loved the sex, but no, it wasn’t just that. She meant something to him. Then she was kissing him back. And the tightness in his chest eased.

He slowed her down, gentled their movements, whispered in her ear, talked to her, nibbled her skin tenderly. Held her. Kissed her. It was them. Together. He came, pleading with her, begging. He didn’t know what for.

He didn’t want to let her go, but she stood up, and got dressed. She suggested he should go home, and a pit opened up in his stomach. Something was wrong. It was friendly. The excuse of his sister being in town was easy. But it didn’t feel right.

He apologized for showing up without calling first. Was that it? Did she actually think he only liked her for fucking. She had to know that wasn’t it, didn’t she? He kissed her so she would know. She was so soft against him. So warm. So Clarke. 

He pulled back, “I’ll see you around?” he asked. It put a chill in him that he didn’t know if she wanted to see him again. What if she was done?

“Of course,” she said and smiled. He took it. Smiled at her. It wasn’t over. He could breathe. He kissed her forehead and left. Just left. Feeling so heavy as he walked down the stairs and unlocked his bike. 

He almost got hit by a truck as he rode across town on his bike, because thoughts of Clarke were whirling through his head. This was too much. He felt sick. Something had been thrown out of whack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh it was kind of hard to coordinate it with the other story line. I might have gotten the time line a bit messed up. oh well.


	3. Friends Can Break Your Heart Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy knows that if he figures out the right balance between friends and fucking, this thing with Clarke will make sense. He can figure it out. He will.

There was a Saturday. He’d already told Clarke he couldn’t see her, because his sister was in town. But the truth was, Octavia was off as often as possible, with her friends, wanting to have fun in New York City in a way that she said Bellamy would ruin. 

He kind of wished Octavia wanted to spend more time with him, maybe they could go to museums or sit in cafes and talk. And then he felt guilty, because it wasn’t because of Octavia’s brief visit to New York, but rather because he wanted a distraction from his thoughts about Clarke.

Saturday was the day they usually met up. And he told Clarke he couldn’t. It was better that way, he thought. His thoughts were all wound up. All he could do was think about Clarke, but here he was, nothing to do, his sister off again with her friends, unable to get any distance from her. And it was so weird the last time they’d met. He felt uncomfortable in his skin. He wanted to see her, to kiss her and straighten things out. But he couldn’t admit to Clarke that he wanted to see her. Not if he was trying work this thing between them out in his head. Not if he wanted to remember that they were just friends. Who fucked. He was forgetting himself. 

But he couldn’t keep from calling her. He told her had a little bit of time. Honestly, he kind of just wanted to go home with her and sit and kiss and talk. Quiet. And take her to bed, and. Just BE.

But instead of inviting him over where he could drag out leaving and entice her into bed and get her to smile until he had to go, she told him to meet her at a cafe. It’s not like they didn’t meet at cafes other times. But he’d missed her. And this was their day. He felt… put out. But he went to meet her.

She was fucking adorable, wearing baggy paint stained overalls rolled up to her knees with a tiny flower sprigged shirt underneath, giving peeks of her lush belly through the sides of her overalls. He wanted to slide his hand in there and just keep it there. Holding her. But she kept the table between them. She kept her bright words between them. She laughed and was sarcastic and clever and held that wide, impersonal smile between them. 

He’d fucked up. 

He thought so when he showed up at her place without calling first and she thought he just wanted her for fucking. 

He’d known it when she suggested a cafe instead of meeting at her place, but when she said goodbye like he was just some buddy, it was confirmed. He almost pulled her down into his lap for a real kiss. But he restrained himself. He let her go. She didn’t owe him her passion. They were friends and they were not serious. No strings attached. 

He watched her go, and knew he had to do something about how much it hurt that what they had seemed to be disappearing. She wasn’t even the same kind of friend. They were just hanging out. Just like everyone else.

He didn’t want to think too hard about it. He just wanted to remember that was the way it was supposed to be. No strings attached. Just friends. Who fucked. That was all. 

**

Bree was around a lot. She’d broken up with a boyfriend not too long ago, he thought, but he wasn’t sure, and she had a lot of free time. When he stopped that night at her restaurant after his sister had already crashed on his couch because she’d been burning her vacation time at both ends, Bree was working the bar again. They flirted, she finished her shift, they went to her house, and fucked. Then he went home and he went into his bedroom with his sister softly snoring on his couch, not even realizing he’d gone out. 

Her entire vacation here, Octavia preferred not to spend her nights with Bellamy. She was either going out or sleeping. They had dinner and then would go their separate ways. He didn’t know why he’d blocked out a week and a half for just her. He knew what kids were like. He was a silly romantic fool, thinking his sister was going to always be there, just because he missed her. 

So Bellamy saw a lot of Bree. Not Clarke. The flirting stayed light. The fucking stayed hot. The leaving was what happened next. 

They figured out a system and it fit around her work schedule. When her roommate was home one time, both girls flirted with him. They both fucked him. And then he left. Very pleased. Feeling in control of his own life.

This was the way it was supposed to work. No strings attached. No big emotions. Like grownups. Just a thing that satisfied all the parties involved. And all parties were definitely satisfied.

Nothing anyone had to get confused about. 

***  
Then his sister went back home and he went back to his routine and it was workshop night.

Bellamy was clenching his jaw so tight, he was worried he might break a tooth. He took a deep breath and released it. Fucking Collins read his story to them all. About the genius, god touched artist who created Galatea with his touch and brought her to life, perfect. And pure. And in love. With him.

It was about Clarke. 

His poetic rendition of the perfect muse who brought together all the hero’s fantasies was about Clarke. His Clarke. 

When they started commenting on the story, all he heard was how wonderful it was, how well written, how they liked this metaphor or that turn of phrase, and sure, the writing was great, fine, beautiful, but what did it matter how pretty it was when all the supposedly profound feeling was objectification and ego?

The crit got around to him and he worked real hard to keep the fury out of his voice. To keep it about the *story* dammit. “You realize, don’t you, that this creation that he fell in love with is basically just a reflection of his narcissism, right? He made her into what he wanted and poured his soul into her, and that’s what he was in love with. Not her at all, just his idea of her. She wasn’t even a real person to him.”

Finn narrowed his eyes at Bellamy, and he knew that he was furious at being challenged. That he’d been so certain that his story was brilliant, so full of himself, so sure that no one would see through his bullshit. Bellamy could feel Miller glaring daggers at him across the table. He was the only one who knew how Bellamy felt about Finn.

Except Finn himself. He’d never needed to be told. Finn knew. He knew he was a rival. Bellamy didn’t think he knew about him and Clarke, but they were rivals, anyway. He probably would have even if Bellamy hadn’t felt the way he did about Clarke. 

Finn snorted derisively and looked down his nose at Bellamy. “It’s a classical greek myth,” he said, as if Bellamy didn’t know the goddamned myth. 

Bellamy ground his teeth. 

But Miller was there to get in the way and settle everyone down and Bellamy got ahold of himself. He stewed, sure he did, glaring at his hands instead of Finn, but the conversation around the table turned from praising Finn’s pretty writing to considering what it meant to have the main character’s love interest be an actual thing.

Bellamy felt like he’d won that one.

By the time they got to the bar, though, he thought that he’d lost something. Clarke was bright and happy and her gaze skated over his. He leaned up against the bar and watched everyone, not just her. Everyone else was normal. Finn kept his eye on her and kept trying to get closer. Laughing, joking. 

Miller leaned up against the bar next to him. “What the fuck did you do?”

He thought about acting like he didn’t know what Miller was talking about. But Miller already knew. “I showed up at her place in the middle of the night without calling. Just to fuck.” That was a lie. He hadn’t, he just wanted to see her, but it was what Clarke thought, and that was the important part. 

“You are the biggest fucking moron I’ve ever met.”

“I know. Help her Miller, please. She’ll hardly even look at me. Finn has been circling her all night. Like a fucking vulture.” He knew the desperation showed in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been hiding his desperation since that night at her place and it wasn’t working. 

“At least she won’t look at him either. You’re lucky. If I were her, I’d be done with you and move on to someone who actually likes her.”

Bellamy growled. “He doesn’t like her. He likes her hair and her tits and how rich she is and that she’s hard to get and the way she makes him feel when she gives him her attention. He doesn’t give a shit about her or what she wants.”

“And you do?”

“Fuck you, Miller.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Shit. What the fuck did I do?”

“You fucked up. And I’m not going to be the one to explain it to you.”

Miller sent him one last glare and then went to sit with Clarke. He started telling stories. His favorite horror stories, one after the other. He held the whole group enraptured. And Finn stood back at glared at him, for getting in his way.

Bellamy wanted to laugh, but instead, he went over and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Raven. She looked up and winked at him, and nodded her head over at Finn. So she’d caught his frustration, too. And that Clarke seemed to be giving him the cold shoulder. She thought it was funny. He did, too, but he was also dealing with the frantic feeling in his gut that she was also giving HIM the cold shoulder. Fuck. 

He had to fix this. At least so that he could enjoy watching Clarke figure out who Finn really was. 

When they left, everyone started walking East, heading cross town, to the subway for most of them. Clarke however would head straight home. He said goodbye to her, and then watched her start out. Finn was watching her too. And suddenly, he was there, walking with her, finally getting the chance to talk to her alone, the way he’d been trying to all night. 

Then suddenly Bellamy was there, too, on the other side of Clarke, walking with her, fully aware that he did not live on the East side, and his only motivation was to not let Finn get Clarke alone, while the rest of their friends walked ahead. 

Finn shot him a glare, but pretended he hadn’t. And then started in on some bullshit story about how he used to scam Hell’s Angels at the pool table, pretending that he didn’t know how to play when he’d been a competitive player in his teens. He went on about how clever he was until Bellamy snapped.

“And how many times did you get your ass kicked when you finished scamming the actual tough guys?” Bellamy said.

Finn narrowed his eyes at Bellamy over Clarke’s head, who had made nothing but non committal comments since they’d started walking. 

“I held my own,” Finn said.

“Against Hell’s Angels?” Bellamy found that unlikely. Finn took a breath to retort, when Raven broke in from ahead, asking if Finn was coming with them uptown. 

Bellamy could tell that Finn didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave Clarke with Bellamy. Bellamy simply stood and cocked his head at Finn. Challenging him to say something or do something. To make her choose between them. 

Finn looked back and forth between Clarke and Bellamy and for one second, Bellamy thought he would push it. And panic filled him. What if Clarke didn’t choose him? But then, instead, Finn told Raven he was coming and leaned forward to kiss Clarke’s cheek.

Her answer was just as noncommittal as before and he grinned at Finn, who glared and left to catch up with Raven and the rest and head into the subway.

Clarke and Bellamy kept walking.

It turned out that Bellamy wasn’t ready to push things with Clarke either.

Finally she let out a breath. “Bellamy, you don’t live on the east side. Where are you going?”

“No, I don’t.” How did he explain that he needed to fix things? That he didn’t like the way they’d been that night? That he didn’t like how it was just fucking and he needed his friend back? That it felt wrong to have her think of him as just sex and he did not think of her like that? That he couldn’t stop thinking about her and didn’t want to? “I wanted to spend time with you. I missed you. I feel like you were kind of avoiding me tonight.”

She blinked, her face bland. “Avoiding you? I was just hanging out with my friends.”

“But not me.” He didn’t buy her innocent act. She was keeping him away, same as Finn and he didn’t like being put into the same category as Finn, dammit.

“You were there, Bellamy. We were hanging out.”

He was going to push it. “I missed you,” he said, his heart beating fast because it felt like a confession. It felt like a truth that left him open and vulnerable. But he had to. “I was hoping I could walk you home.”

“Walk me home…” he could hear the suspicion in her voice but he didn’t want to see her looking at him like that, so he watched his feet take step after step, instead. “I’m not looking to fuck tonight, you know.” 

The words hurt him. He didn’t know why. Fuck. That was his word. This was just friends who fucked, right? But it hurt hearing her say what they had was just that. Fuck. “We don’t need to have sex. I don’t like you just for sex, Clarke,”

She smiled. It was sly. “You don’t?”

“Clarke…” He couldn’t bear it. He stopped walking and took her hand so she would turn to look at him. “Can I come home with you?” Confession.

Her eyes were large and almost violet in the street lights as she looked up at him. Beautiful. He felt like he was about to fall into them, like a deep pool, and drown. “Just to hang out?”

Yes. He thought. He just wanted to sit with her. To talk to her. To have her wrapped under his arm. To make jokes. To shit talk. To have her fall asleep on his shoulder in the middle of a show because she had a hard time sitting still and just existing. He wanted it. He wanted her. “That actually sounds great. Shark week is on tv. We could watch that for a little while.”

They kept heading towards her place. The way she smiled at him, joked with him already. His heart lightened. He had his friend back. His best friend. A relief filled him. They stopped at a stoplight and he couldn’t help but lean over to kiss her. Not on her lips. It wasn’t that. He wrapped his arms around her and smelled her golden honey scented hair, and let his lips brush the skin under her ear, because she was precious to him. 

***

He was going to get a hold on this. He had his friend back, but he had almost ruined it and he knew it. She wanted to be valued as his friend and he did, he totally did. He didn’t realize how much until he thought he might lose her friendship. He was getting too wound up with the sex and friendship. He knew, although he dreaded it, that he had to pull back, just a bit, on the friends who fucked thing. Like Miller said. He was too focused on Clarke. It was obsessive. Next time he met up with Bree, he asked her for a proper date. Not just a hook up. 

“Like a date date?” she asked. “Not just fucking?”

“Well, if you want to, after we go out, I can guarantee there will be fucking involved.”

She laughed. “Phew! All right then. But I’m making demands. Since we’re going out, I want to see you dressed up. And I’ll dress up for you, too. We’ll be, like, ‘going out.’ It’s a thing.”

“Dressing up?” He was doubtful. But he needed this. He needed a distraction. He needed some air in his relationship with Clarke. So he agreed. And it surprised him, how much fun he had on the date. They kept up their flirting, which was basically just verbal foreplay, but he also learned a bit about her, where she was from. That she wanted to be an actress and had come to New York City to break into broadway. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t know Bree wanted to be an actress. She even sang a song from Les Mis for him, and he didn’t know much about it, but she was very talented.

And when he brought her to his place, it added a new layer to their fucking. A fun one. He liked her and she liked him, and it showed. She went home and he was relieved. It wasn’t a Clarke thing. It was just a getting to know your partner thing. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe how dramatic he made things.

After Bree left, Bellamy laughed himself silly at what an idiot he was. 

Bellamy hung out with Clarke the next night, and it was great. They had found their equilibrium again. He liked her. She liked him. That was the basis of their relationship and the sex was a bonus. And if they could joke again and have fun, it was because they had let some air back into everything. They were friends. It felt good. 

Oddly, when he told Miller about it, Miller did not laugh at Bellamy. He called him a moron and an asshole. And different variations on the theme.


	4. Someone Loses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy thinks he's got it all under control. His friendship is back on with Clarke Griffin, and the benefits are a lot more balanced now that he'd got a benefits thing going with Bree, too. It's a lot healthier, less obsessive... until he runs into Clarke and Finn out on a date.
> 
> Then nothing is right. It's all wrong. 
> 
> He's in love with Clarke, he realizes. He is an idiot, just like Miller always said.
> 
> And he's ruined everything with this damn friends with benefits game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wrong. Someone asked me how long this story would take and I thought two or three more chapters. nope. one more after this, tops. I'm ready to write Clarke's POV for the reconciliation now.
> 
> Also, I spent two days trying to work in that Clarke/Bellamy fight, word for word, with his POV. Nope. Messed up the flow. Too redundant. If you want to read their fight go here. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10558154/chapters/24654639  
> i don't know how to do a live link. leave me alone. i've tried. lol

It was better. It was all better. 

The next time he saw Clarke, it was just light and fun. They went out with the group, and joked and he winked at her and she laughed back at him but it was all normal. They were friends again. It was a relief. He was surprised to realize how much he had valued Clarke’s friendship. 

This seeing Bree thing was working better. It made life more balanced. No one girl getting wrapped up in his head. That’s why he made another date with her for Friday, She demanded they get dressed up again because she apparently had a flare for the dramatic. He thought it might have something to do with being an actress, so he indulged her. Besides, they looked hot. And people watched them when they walked into the bar.

That’s when he saw Finn. 

With Clarke. 

His fucking heart stopped. Seeing them there. Holding hands. Leaning close. Laughing intimately. He couldn’t help himself, he walked right up to the table. Finn looked up. When he saw him, a glint came to his eye.

“Hey,” he said and it was like he had won.

Clarke looked up and he could see the surprise on her face. “Hi Bellamy, what a surprise to see you here.” Her eyes all big and innocent.

“I bet.” He could not keep the edge out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Finn said, slick. “This is a great bar. Isn’t it?”

“It sure is.” He wanted to rip Finn’s face off

“Hi,” Clarke said, bright and pretty. She held her hand out to Bree, who was standing behind his elbow. “I’m Clarke,” she nodded at Finn. “This is Finn.”

“I’m Bree.”

“Do you guys want to join us?” Clarke asked. She looked at them both so happily. Like she was fucking glad to see them here on a date. It made him furious.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe they were here together. He couldn’t believe Clarke was buying this guy’s smarm. He couldn’t believe he had to see it. “Yeah, right,” he said, and shot her a glare that should have melted her. She just kept blinking back at him, innocently. Like she hadn’t done anything wrong. He shook his head and turned, leading Bree off upstairs into a dark part of the bar where he wouldn’t need to see them. On a date. Together. 

They went up and got a table. Ordered drinks. Bellamy stewed. Their martinis came. Fancy drinks because he and Bree were doing fancy dating. Hers was pink with some sort of fruit thing in it. His was just vodka and an olive. He tossed back half of his in one swallow. She played with her fruit thing. 

Bellamy glared at the staircase as if Clarke or Finn would suddenly appear. He thought about what they were doing down there. Did she play footsie with him under the table like she did with him at workshop. The thought chilled him. Did she play footsie with Finn at the workshop, too?

Did she take him home and fuck him and laugh with him and wake up with him in the morning and give him that soft, honey side of her? Did she take him to Teresa’s for the pancakes in the morning. 

“So, yeah,” Bree said.

He startled. He had forgotten she was there. 

“Is she why you wanted to keep this no strings?”

“What?”

“That girl. What was her name?”

“Clarke,” he said. 

“Clarke. Yeah. So she’s the one you’re in love with, only she doesn’t want to be exclusive, right? Just friends? She seemed pretty friendly to you. And even friendlier to that guy. You’re not acting like just friends.”

“Finn.” Bellamy ground down on his teeth. “No strings is my rule. I wanted to be honest about what it was. Just friends. That’s what we are.”

She blinked up at him, looking like she was really sorry for him. She took a deep breath and shook her head sadly. “Are we friends?”

“Yeah,” he said. Sure of that one. She was great. He liked her.

“I wouldn’t be this upset if I ran into you out on a date with another girl. Would you be upset at me?”

He couldn’t answer. His heart was beating too fast. His breath was getting heavy. He thought there was a ringing high in his head. 

Bree signaled the waitress for a couple of shots. As soon as they showed up Bellamy tossed one back then the other. 

“That was mine.”

He gasped at her. “Sorry.” He was a dick. He was a fool.

“You didn’t know that you were in love with her.”

“I didn’t know. I thought it was—I thought I was— I love her, she’s my best friend. She’s hot, okay? I’m not blind. I thought it was just sex. I thought—“

“Until you saw her with him.”

“I hate that guy!”

“Yeah because he’s dating the girl you’re in love with.”

“No! Because he’s a tool. And he doesn’t care about her. And she buys into his stupid act. She thinks he’s a good guy and I’ve heard him talk about women. He’s not. But what if she wants to be with him…” 

“And that would bother you….”

“Yeah!”

“Because you want to be with her.”

“No!”

She looked at him doubtfully.

“Fuck.” He looked at her watching him. He’d just met this girl and she had his number. “I can’t see you any more.”

“Yeah. I kind of figured. You’ve got some shit to deal with, and I kind of don’t want any of those strings.” She gestured vaguely in his direction. “You’ve got all the strings. They are attached all to hell.”

“What the hell am I going to do?”

Bree laughed and took a sip of her fancy martini. “Not my problem, Bellamy. There’s a reason why I wanted no strings attached. I just wanted to have fun. What you’re up to? Not fun.”

***

He waited. There was no way he was going down there into the bar knowing Clarke and Finn were there. What if they were kissing in the bar. Clarke didn’t really like kissing with a lot of people around. She didn’t like being the center of attention so they kept it mostly private, or at least subtle. But what if Clarke was different with Finn? What if she didn’t mind kissing in the middle of a bar with him? 

“Yeah, so I’m going to go,” Bree said after a while, when he realized he’d just been staring into space and hadn’t said a word to her for he didn’t know how long. 

“Sorry,” he said, glum. She left and he felt like an asshole. But then she was back. 

“Hey, I thought you might like to know, they’re gone. You can leave without seeing them now.”

He let out a breath of relief. “Thanks Bree. You’re awesome.”

She shot him a side eye and left. Again.

Now he could go. He paid the check and it wasn’t until he was outside of the bar that he realized she might have gone home with Finn. Or she might have taken him to her place. 

It was a physical pain inside of his chest and he found himself heading to her apartment, remembering the last time he did that on a whim and how it seemed to change things between them. He needed to change things between them, he realized. He needed to. 

Then he was outside of her apartment, on the corner, at a pay phone, begging her to let him come up and see her. The relief that she was alone was almost big enough to over power the fear at what was about to come next.

He walked up her stairs, slow, breathing deeply to calm himself. Her door was ajar and he went in. She was sitting on her couch, watching tv, and never looked at him once. So he sat down, and waited. 

He should say something, he thought. He was the one that came to her place. But he found he couldn’t. Because there was just one question going through his mind and he was afraid of the answer. Did Clarke love Finn Collins?

They fought.

She threw his rules back in his face. Just giving him what he asked for, really, and he knew it. They were just friends who were fucking. There were no strings attached. They were not exclusive. He’d set himself up for this. For his heart to break. For him to fall in love with Clarke Fucking Griffin, just like he always knew was going to happen.

They fell into bed. Just like he knew was going to happen. Because his need for her was so close to the surface. He was broken open upon her. “Why do you care?” she’d asked him. He didn’t, not anymore. Caring was too easy, too shallow a word. He ached for her. The very concept that she might not be there left him empty and unfinished. Half a man. They made love, and he was desperate for her. Every touch reached into him and pulled more of him out, gave more of him to her. And he was glad to give himself to her.

He shouldn’t have come. 

He lay in bed with her after, skin against skin, her chest, flushed still, her hair sticking to her neck with their sweat, her breath gentling as he caressed her hip, as he cradled her head against his shoulder, and she fell asleep in his arms. Exhausted. He watched her sleep. 

Bellamy knew Clarke to be a part of him, inextricable from himself, and it was bad. He’d done what he’d meant to never do. Ever. He’d given her his soul and she didn’t even know. She had the power to destroy him. He felt weak. And the funny thing was, if he thought she’d give him her soul in return, he would gladly open up his chest for her, expose his heart. For her. He would. He loved her. He would. He would discard all the rules, all of them to be with her, to be honest with her. To be always with her. 

But she’d taken his rule that he’d made and smiled, and played his game. She did it better than him. Just fucking. No strings attached. She took those loose strings and she made him dance. Did she even know? 

She couldn’t. She couldn’t possibly know the wound she’d dealt him when she said that Finn wanted to be her boyfriend, the very thought that she’d chose someone over him. Nor could she know his brief joy over her disinterest in being with Finn. And the thought that she liked what they had better. Until he realized that what they had was just fucking, no strings, and empty.

Then the real question, the most important one, he realized, was did Clarke love him? Because he loved her. The for real love that he’d been trying to pretend was just friendship. But it wasn’t. He loved her. He was in love with her and he wanted everything with her.

But Clarke didn’t care.

Not about Bree. Not about Raven. Not about any girls he might be with. And she didn’t care about how he felt about her and Finn. She was untouched.

He was so jealous. He burned with it, with the way she talked about Bree as if she’d like to eat her up. As if she’d like to eat her up WITH him. Like it would be fun, a game, and he was a toy. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.

Clarke had won. He hadn’t known that this had been the kind of game with winners and losers. He’d lost. He was hers, and he’d put up with any sort of jealousy and anger if he could just have a part of her.

Clarke was full asleep now. Her face so soft and angelic as she dreamt. Very different than she was a few hours before. Challenging him, provoking him, seducing him, as if she needed to seduce him at all. This gentle Clarke was his Clarke. But so was the wild one. And the one who wrote poetry and stories about warriors at the end of the apocalypse. And the one who argued with him and laughed with him, and watched tv with him and went to breakfast with him. He wanted all of her.

It took a while for his mind to stop whirling and his heart to stop beating so hard, but finally, after a long time of watching her sleep, he succumbed to his dreams, next to her, in her bed.

He woke up in the dark of the morning. When the light through the window was just beginning to gray with dawn. He could hear birds begin to chirp. Clarke was curled up into his chest and he could feel the moist warmth of her breath on his collarbone. 

A heavy stone sat in his stomach.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t live with watching her sleep with other people, with her going out on dates, looking for someone she could really fall in love with, knowing that sooner or later she’d find someone as great as her, someone who recognized that part of her, and eventually, she would leave him behind, leave the game behind, and choose someone else. 

He extricated himself from her tangled limbs, found his clothes and left. He didn’t leave a note. 

 

***

“Go ahead and laugh.”

Miller opened his door, wearing a bathrobe, with his toothbrush foaming in his mouth.

“What the fuck, Blake?” he muttered around his toothbrush. He left the door open and retreated back into his bathroom to spit. 

“Laugh all you fucking want. You were right.”

“I know I was right. And why the fuck are you here at 8 am? What am I right about?”

“I’m fucking in love with Clarke. And she thinks we’re just fuck buddies. And she’s moving on. Looking for someone else. And I feel like my heart has been torn out of my chest and the worst part is I did it to myself. I could have. I could have gone out with her. I could have told her I liked her. I could have told her what she meant to me, how I wanted to be with her, how I couldn’t stop thinking about her but all I could do was act like she didn’t matter and fucked around and refused to…” he was pacing Millers apartment and ran out of energy. He collapsed into a chair. “Be hers.”

Miller came out of his bathroom and nodded. “You want coffee?”

“Coffee will not make this better.”

“So that’s a no.”

“Fuck no. Is it too early to make it irish?”

Miller snorted. “Nah man. You’re already a fucking idiot. You might as well get drunk at eight in the morning.”

Miller poured him a giant cup of coffee and added like two shots of whiskey before handing it to him.

“I thought you were going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Do I have to?”

“No.” The coffee burned when it went down and burned in his stomach. “I am so fucked. Oh my god. What the fuck.” 

Miller sat down on the sofa and kicked his heels up on the coffee table before drinking his coffee. Bellamy just watched him.

“I’m staying here with you,” he told him.

“Why are you staying here, Blake? You have an apartment all to yourself.”

Because his apartment reminded him of her. He wasn’t going to tell Miller that. “Because I don’t want her to find me.”

Miller nodded, looking at him with disdain. “So you’re hiding from her.”

He blew on his coffee to cool it and then took another big swallow. He deserved the burn. “Exactly.”

Miller nodded again. “All right then. I was planning on doing a Godfather marathon. You in?”

“God yes,” Bellamy said. Glad to not have to talk… to not have to think about that beautiful girl who made him laugh and had taken over his life and now made him want to cry.


	5. No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nope. He was wrong. He can't handle it. Bellamy Blake is head over heels in love with Clarke Griffin and he's messed everything up in every way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read what happens when Clarke shows up at his apartment, here it is from her POV.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10558154/chapters/25086615

“Get the fuck out, Blake.” Miller threw the empty orange juice container at Bellamy as he sat on the couch, surrounded by blankets.

“What the fuck, man?” Bellamy said, catching the container and doing a good job of being offended. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. It’s been a week. Stop hiding. Go back to your apartment and face the mess you’ve made of your life.”

“Fuck you, Miller. It’s just orange juice. I’ll get you another.”

“No, it’s not just orange juice. You’re a mess. Clarke’s a mess.”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about her.”

“I don’t care. You’re living on my couch and drinking all my juice. I get to talk about what I want to talk about. Do you know she was practically crying through the whole workshop?”

Bellamy clenched his jaw. His heart clenched in his chest. “Maybe it was your stupid beautiful fucking story, you asswipe,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, sure that’s the excuse she used, too.”

“So maybe that was it.”

“Except it wasn’t. It was you. And I know, because you’re sitting here crying every night on my sofa, too.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Only because you don’t want me to rub your nose in your mess. You feel like crying. Your whole—” he made a motion at Bellamy, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, “Being is crying. And it’s making me depressed. Go the fuck home. Call fucking Clarke and fix whatever you broke, because otherwise that douchebag Finn is going to swoop in there and take wounded Clarke and make her feel better and make her fall in love with him because she’s bleeding just like you. Rebound is a real thing. I never thought she’d buy his shit before, but seeing what a mess she was at the last workshop, I’m pretty sure he’s going to use her vulnerability to lock her down.”

Bellamy just stared up at Miller, every word hurting worse. He closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Tell her that you love her, you dumbass.”

“Why? So she can tell me what an idiot I am and how we’re just friends?”

“So she can tell you what an idiot you are and that she loves you, too, you jackass.”

Bellamy shook his head. “You didn’t see her, man. You didn’t see her with Finn. Or the way she was talking about Bree.”

“Bree?”

“The girl I was dating. She wanted to have a threesome with another girl, man. What the fuck kind of shit is that?”

“With you and the girl you’re dating, you mean.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? She wanted to fuck a girl while I watched. What the fuck kind of love is that?”

“The jealous kind? Oh my fucking god, Blake. She was fucking jealous. And she wanted you to be jealous too. For a smart guy, you are incredibly stupid.” Miller threw Bellamy’s sweatshirt at him. “Get the hell out of here. Go home. Take a fucking shower. Change.”

“Hey. I showered and changed this morning.” He had a duffle bag with him. Fine he might be recycling his pants but, he had changed. Mostly.

“Don’t care. Go home. I’ll be by in a couple hours and we can go to our dive bar and drink whiskey and you can complain about being in love with a girl who loves you back.”

“She doesn’t love me back, Miller. We’re just friends who fuck.”

He rolled his eyes. “Out.”

***

Two whiskeys in. Bellamy had showered and changed, but not shaved. Why bother? He was just going to mope with Miller. He was chain smoking and Miller was rolling his eyes at him. He let him. Bellamy deserved it.

“Oh here we go,” Miller said suddenly, after doing nothing but grunting along for at least the last drink.

“Hey, hot stuff,” a girl whispered throatily in his ear. Then red tipped fingers slid down his shoulders to caress his chest. He turned around on his stool.

“Echo.”

“The very same,” she said, her eyes large and liquid. Her lips slightly open and her tongue peeking out between them. “My boyfriend’s out of town, you want to come up?”

She was, if anything, even hotter than last time. She must have planned on seeing him here, or at least hoped for it, because she was dressed to kill, in a tight dress and lots of cleavage and high heels that made her legs look like she could kill a man with her thighs. Any one would go up with her if she offered.

But she wasn’t Clarke. 

He turned back to the bar. “I don’t think so, Echo.”

She slid in next to him, and looked up at him through her lashes. “Why not? What happened to our arrangement?”’

He chuckled. “Right. When your boyfriend is out of town, you’re free. You’re just going to have to find someone else. It turns out I’m not free.” He sighed heavily and leaned his forearms against the bar, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. It was a damn tragedy.

His life was a damn tragedy. 

His heart was a damn tragedy.

She took his cigarette out of his hand and took a drag. “Well that fucked up my night. What about you, handsome?” She nodded at Miller.

Miller rolled his eyes. “I’m flattered,” he said, not sounding flattered at all. “And also gay.”

She sat down on a stool next to Bellamy, shaking her head. 

“Can I buy you a drink at least?” Bellamy asked. He didn’t feel so much guilty as he did embarrassed. His whole existence was a disaster. And she got to witness it. What did he care? He had no dignity left anyway. 

She took another drag on Bellamy’s cigarette, clearly not giving it back, and her eyes cast between Bellamy and Miller, raking up first Bellamy’s body, then Millers. He felt strangely violated. “No thanks,” she said, standing up. She crushed out the cigarette then took a large swallow of Bellamy’s whiskey. “You’re the only prospects in this dive bar.” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “I’m going home to play with my vibrator and think of the two of you.” Bellamy jolted as she bit his ear lobe. But then she was off, with only one backwards glance, full of heat.

Bellamy choked on nothing. 

“If you don’t go with her, you’re definitely head over heels in love with Clarke.”

Bellamy finished off his drink, and called for another round. “I think she wanted the both of us, man.”

Miller startled and turned to look, although she’d already gone. “Huh,” he said, grinning back at Bellamy. “Too bad the both of us are already taken.”

“I’m not taken,” he grumbled. “I’m just a sucker in love with a girl who doesn’t feel the same.”

“Why don’t you tell her and find out.”

Bellamy snorted. The drinks came. They drank in silence. “I’m quitting the workshop,” he said, after a while.

Miller shook his head, without looking at him. “Have I told you you’re a moron?”

“Yep.”

“You’re a moron.”

They kept drinking. “You’re a good friend Miller.”

“Fuck you, moron.”

***

He didn’t listen to Miller. What did Miller know?

He tried. He really did. The week passed. He went to work and came home. He fed himself mostly not junk food. His neighbor, Vera, a lady he sometimes helped with handyman stuff, caught him at a bad moment, and she felt so sorry for him, she’d been baking cookies and muffins for him every day. She’d probably be over soon with another batch. Not that he hadn’t eaten them, but he was feeling pretty pitiful about it when he did.

Bellamy watched the classic movie channel and read the same page of philosophy over and over again until he realized not one word was getting through. He threw the book across the room and went to take a shower where he jacked off to thoughts of Clarke and hated himself for it. 

None of it worked. Nothing did.

Bellamy knew that Clarke was at the workshop. He knew that Miller was telling her he’d quit. He imagined her going to the bar with Collins in tow. He imagined her not caring that Bellamy had left the group, and flirting with Collins, maybe going home with him. That was probably what she’d do. Now that he was out of the way. If they were really just friends who were fucking, that would be the smart thing. Move on. Find someone new. Right? It’s what he tried to do when he was attempting to move on from Clarke even though it hadn’t worked and had just brought him to this place of misery.

And yet. Still there was a small hope that she would come to him. He was so stupid. She left a message once, on Saturday, and it had been as if she barely knew him. Just acquaintances. It made his heart sink. He didn’t respond because he couldn’t face knowing how little she cared about him. 

God. He felt so stupid. He dreamed she’d come to him and tell him she only wanted him, although, all evidence pointed to her doing just fine without him. He knew how stupid he was. He knew he was a mess. And he knew that what Clarke and he had was over.

It surprised him when she showed up at his door.

He should have known. She was so stubborn. She wasn’t going to let him just disappear. She’d at least want to fight with him, get in her last words. And maybe he should have picked up the phone and called her back just to end it cleanly, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to end it.

And when she barreled in his door all he could think of was that she was coming to tell him that they were over and all he wanted to do was hold her and never let her go, which couldn’t happen, so it hurt. It hurt to just look at her.

But then, impossibility of impossibilities, and she didn’t want to break up with him, she didn’t want to be just his friend. She didn’t want what they already had, either, because it wasn’t enough. Not enough at all. Not for her and not for him, because she loved him just as much as he loved her. She kissed him. And he kissed her back, and held on, and he wasn’t going to let her go.

And it was a miracle.

***

“You asshole, Blake,” Miller said from the bar as Bellamy walked in with his arm wrapped around Clarke’s shoulders and a giant smile. 

“Watch it, Nathan,” Clarke said, tightening her arm around his waist. “He’s my asshole.”

Miller smiled. He flat out smiled. With teeth and everything. Bellamy had never seen him without that damn sarcastic shield up. He breathed out. “Finally,” he said.

He picked up the pitcher that the bartender brought and turned to the rest of the group. “Hey, look who I found.” Their faces were hysterical. Running the gamut from angry to confused to happy. Collins was the angry one. Bellamy made sure to pull Clarke extra close when he caught Finn’s eye. He nuzzled her neck. 

Raven’s eyes tracked between him and Clarke and she grinned. “Good to see you Blake,” she said. “I’m glad Clarke dragged you out.”

“Clarke dragged me all right,” he said. Clarke was looking up at him and her eyes were so full of love he could hardly breathe. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. She smiled and ducked her head to tuck it into his shoulder. 

“Good, you deserve it.”

Harper grabbed onto Monty’s arm where they sat together and squeezed him. “Oh! This is amazing. I had no idea. Sit down and tell us all about it!” She shoved Jasper over so they could sit and Jasper went willingly, smiling broadly.

“This deserves a round of shots,” Jasper said and he went to the bar to get them. “Don’t say anything until I get back.”

“What’s to say?” Clarke asked. “We thought we were just friends fooling around. We were more than that and we finally figured it out.”

Bellamy sat on the couch and Clarke folded into his side, right where he wanted her, pressed against him, his arm around her. Where she belonged. “I was in love with her,” he said looking down at her. He couldn’t stop looking at her, now that she was his and he was hers. “I am in love with her.” He sighed out. “I’ve always been in love with her.”

She grinned and stroked his face. “You said you wanted to go out with our friends, not stay in and make out. You need to dial it back or I’m going to jump you right here.”

He shrugged and petted the line of her neck, softly down to her heart beat. “Oh well.”

So she did. 

“Hey!” Jasper said as he came back. Clarke and Bellamy broke apart. “You said you were going to wait to tell the story until I came back.”

“No story, Jasper,” Clarke said. “He loves me. I love him. We stopped being stupid.”

“No, there’s more story, definitely, I can tell. Drink your shot. Then you’ll tell me.” He passed the shots out and stood up. “Hey, where’d Finn go?”

Bellamy looked up. No Finn. He’d left, and Bellamy had never even noticed. He tried to bite his grin back, but didn’t manage too well. Clarke slapped his arm. 

“Bell…” she warned.

“So I guess this means you’re staying in the workshop,” Miller said, biting back his own grin.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said and pulled Clarke into his lap so she squealed and everyone laughed and he didn’t care. Bellamy was glad, he wanted them all to know. They were together. No more games.


End file.
